


Candy Colored, Sugar Coated

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Colin's Dumb Orange Jersey, Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18741127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Colin's dumb orange jersey is starting to get to Michael.





	Candy Colored, Sugar Coated

**Author's Note:**

> listen, I may a concerning personal obsession with Colin's dumb orange jersey. in the imaginary world where he and che are boning, it tracks that che would have a thing with it, too, right? 
> 
> anyway, big thanks to hannah for beta'ing!
> 
> enjoy!

“Orange is not your color,” Che observes as Colin strips down in their bathroom. 

Colin stops, shorts around his ankles and ridiculous Cleveland jersey hanging around his thighs. “You don’t think so?” He puts his hands on his hips and aims a crooked grin at Che. “I think it’s great.”

Che shakes his head. “Nah,” he says as he steps into the bathroom. He’s already changed into loose-fitting sweatpants, tired of the stench of sweat and WWE clinging to his clothes. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he approaches Colin; he reaches out only to fiddle with the hem of Colin’s jersey. 

“I think you like it,” Colin says. He pushes Che’s hand away and reaches under the jersey to yank at his boxers so they join his shorts on the floor. “Especially like this.”

Against his will, Che’s cock twitches in his shorts. “Nah,” he says again. He doesn’t falter, even as Colin’s grin turns into a knowing smirk. “S’ugly.” 

“Right,” Colin drawls. He skirts around Che, avoiding his eager touch, and steps out of the bathroom. “Sure,” he says, taunting. He turns to look at Che, still standing in the bathroom. “You coming, or not?” 

With that, Colin turns quick on his heel and makes a beeline for their bathroom. Che hangs back, kicking Colin’s shorts and boxers out of the way so neither of them slip on them in the middle of the night—as has happened several times. He flicks off the light and meanders his way back to the bedroom, where the door sits slightly ajar. 

“Bout time,” Colin says as Che pushes the door the rest of the way open. 

“Shut up.” Che can’t help his affectionate grin. Especially not when he catches sight of Colin reclining on their bed, the hem of that hideous orange jersey inching up his thighs. Che starts toward the bed, already trying to remember how much lube they’ve got left, when Colin clears his throat.

“Admit you like it,” Colin says, grinning that stupid, lopsided way of his. His pearly-whites are as beautiful as they are annoying. 

“Colin,” Che warns, voice a low growl.

Colin stretches, pulling the jersey up far enough to expose his half hard cock and already slick hole. “Admit. You. Like it.” 

Che groans and rolls his eyes. “You’re such a fuckin’ brat, Jost.” He clambers onto the bed between Colin’s spread thighs. “Fine, I fucking like it, alright? I wanna fuck you in it.”

Colin’s grin turns sweet, soft. “Knew it.” He tosses Che the lube. 

“You ready for me?” Che asks as he flips open the lid. 

“Not quite. You came back quicker than I expected.”

Che spreads lube across three fingers before setting the tube aside. “I got you,” he murmurs, inching forward on his knees. He brings two fingers to Colin’s hole and presses in without preamble. Colin takes in a shuddering breath and spreads his legs wider. “I got you,” Che says again. 

Colin throws his head back and Che leans in to bite at the long line of his neck. “Fuck, Che.” 

“Yeah, I hear you,” Che says with a grin. He bites at Colin’s pulse point and sucks a deep red hickey along the hinge of Colin’s jaw. Colin opens up easily for his two fingers so Che slips in a third and swallows Colin’s whimper in a kiss.

Colin’s hands find Che’s shoulders and grip tight. “This jersey always get you hard? Or just tonight?”

“You not wearin’ pants sure doesn’t hurt.” Che reaches between them and grabs a handful of Colin’s ass to punctuate his statement. 

“You’re so easy,” Colin says, laughing around a moan. “C’mon, hurry up.”

“Thought you wanted me to open you up,” Che thrusts his fingers a little harder, a little deeper. 

“I did, now I’m ready, so  _ fuck _ me.” 

Che opens his mouth to say something else snarky, even as he withdraws his fingers, but Colin beats him to the punch. In a not-quite-surprising display of strength, Colin flips them over, sending them almost toppling off the bed. Che catches them with a hand braced against their bedside table and an arm thrown around Colin’s waist.

“M’getting lube on your precious jersey.” Che flexes his fingers and the fabric sticks slightly to his hand. 

“It’ll wash,” Colin says, slightly out of breath. “C’mon,” he urges again. He braces a hand on Che’s chest and reaches down to take Che’s cock by the base. 

“You got me on my back, you get to do all the work,” Che teases. 

Colin rolls his eyes again. “Fine, you big baby.” He grips Che’s cock a little tighter as he sinks down on it; Che watches, gaze avid, until the sight is obscured by the fucking jersey. Colin keeps sinking down until Che’s in to the hilt. 

“Good, doin’ so good,” Che mumbles, distracted by the tight, wet heat around his dick. “Taking me so good.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Colin says without heat. “Oh, god,  _ fuck _ .” 

Che braces his free hand on the bed to lever himself up; he plants his feet flat on the bed for leverage, and keeps his other arm curled around Colin’s waist. It’s not the best angle but he can thrust up and keep Colin close, and it’s perfect to wring a series of breathless, desperate gasps from him. 

“Fuck, Che,  _ Michael _ .”

“That’s it, baby, c’mon. Ride me.”

“You’re so corny,” Colin gasps even as his hips start to work. He raises up at the same time Che pulls out, and grinds back down at the same moment Che thrusts up. 

“You dig it, like I dig your dumb fuckin’ jersey.”

Speaking of, Che leans back enough to admire it on Colin. It’s bunched up around his hips and tenting where his erection bobs in front of him. It’s starting to slip off one shoulder and exposes Colin’s collarbone, enough that Che has to lean in and bite the sweat-slick skin there. Colin lets out a shaky cry and tightens around Che’s cock.

“You gonna come?” Che asks. He’s close but wants to see Colin unravel in his lap—and preferably, watch Colin make a mess of his jersey. 

“Fuck you,” Colin moans, but it sounds like  _ yes _ . He leans forward and presses his forehead to Che’s, sneaks a chaste kiss before letting out a keening whine. “Coming,” he gasps softly.

Che slips his hand up Colin’s thigh and then under the hem of the jersey to wrap his fingers around Colin’s dick. “Do it,” he urges as he bites at Colin’s flushed bottom lip. “Gonna stain your jersey for me?”

Colin aims a half-hearted punch at Che’s shoulder but he tips his head back in a guttural moan. His throat bobs as he swallows and gasps and his body goes shaking and tight in Che’s arms. He clenches around Che and his come spills over Che’s fingers and,  _ yes _ , onto the jersey itself. Che works him through the aftershocks while chasing his own orgasm, lets himself get pushed over the brink when Colin levels a heavy-lidded, blushing glare at him. 

Che’s eyes slam shut as he comes, thrusting up a final time into Colin. He smears his come-sticky hand over Colin’s hip under the jersey and keeps him close, tight, as that Che can spill his load as deep as possible. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Colin says as Che melts into the bed, left boneless by his orgasm. “And you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

Che smiles. “Alright,” he agrees. “C’mere, wanna kiss you.”

Despite the flustered expression on his face, Colin still leans down to kiss Che. It’s slow and sweet and soft—and when Che sucks on Colin’s tongue, a little dirty. 

“Che,” Colin says softly, shuddering.

“If I’m already on the hook for dry cleaning, might as well make the most out of it, right?” His cock twitches, rising to half hard, still inside Colin. 

Colin shivers. “You make a compelling argument.” 

Che’s answering laugh is swallowed by another kiss. “I thought so too,” he says against Colin’s lips. “Maybe we should get you some more jerseys.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Michael,” Colin says. He swivels his hips and it punches a gasp from deep in Che’s chest. “Make the most out of this.”

Che rolls them over again and presses Colin into the bed. He starts to thrust slowly, watching Colin move past oversensitivity into enjoying the fullness yet again, watching his cock start to tent the jersey again. Che waits until Colin’s panting and flushed before saying—

“I was wrong, you know. Orange kinda  _ is  _ your color.”


End file.
